Souls Be Damned
by BloodMoonNights
Summary: "The price to get Tweek's soul back is eight other souls, Craig. You will have to collect them for me. You will have to murder eight other people to bring back this person you love so much. One for each level of Hell; this, and only this, will satisfy the requirements. And only then can I release your Tweek."
1. Chapter 1 of 10: Limbo

Chapter 1 of 10: Circle One, Limbo (Prologue)

Beep. Beep. Beep…

That's what Tweek's heart monitor sounds like. It is constant, for now, and it will not falter in this moment. He looks serene like this: white blonde hair spilling out onto his blue hospital pillow, his milky skin practically glowing under his gown. His veins protest the IV's that spill out in all directions, from both arms no less; angry red and purple bruises pepper the inside of his arms from where needles prodded and poked mercilessly in their attempt to help. Over his nose is the tube that helps his breathing, and without it he will not receive oxygen and his brain will rupture.

Beep. Beep. Beep…

I trace lazy circles on his palm, and sometimes I imagine he twitches because it tickles. But, I know he doesn't. He is asleep right now, induced by drugs to take off the edge, and not even the end of the world will wake him. But, I wish he could, because it would be nice to hear his voice.

"Craig, honey?" the nurse peeks her head in, giving me a concerned look.

"Yes?" I reply, not taking my eyes off of Tweek. She enters with a small tray, and places it down on the nightstand beside Tweek's bed. I look over briefly: a cup of coffee, some creamer and sugar, and a small box of cereal with a side of toast. Food for me, because I do not leave. Since Tweek got sick I have stayed with him day and night. The hospital staff tried to kick me out but I locked the door and threatened their lives if they made me leave. He needs me now more than ever; the way he has always needed me. The way I need him…

Two parts of a whole; one without the other is just anarchy and insanity.

Beep. Beep. Beep…

"You should get some sleep, sugar," the nurse said, fixing the blanket around my shoulder before attending to Tweek's first IV. She changes the fluids, and hums idly to herself. I glare at her for interrupting my time with my friend. I know she is only doing her job, and keeping him healthy, but nevertheless I am peeved. When I do not answer her she lets out a heavy sigh, shakes her head and comments that someone will be back in a while to clean out his bedpan and check all his vitals. I nod abysmally, laying my head down next to his side and listen to his machine operated breathing.

Why did this have to happen to someone good like Tweek? He has never been anything but a kind soul, and for something of this magnitude to be placed on him is cruel. It is wrong. And I will never forgive the fuck heads who let this happen.

Beep. Beep. Beep…

A few months ago Tweek was jumped outside of school. They beat him to a pulp, took all his money and possessions, then proceeded to cut him with a knife, and dumped his damaged body in a trash can. Butters Stotch found him hours later, and he saved him from bleeding out. The doctors could stop the bleeding, and they could put blood back in him. That was not the problem. His wounds festered, and when they closed the infection got stuck inside- fucking idiot doctors. It morphed and attacked everything until he had a seizure and ended up here.

The doctors don't know how to fix him; it isn't something they've seen before. They do their best, but to me that isn't fucking enough. I want him to get better, and I want him to smile again. That is all I want, for my friend to heal and to be the twitchy little ferret I've always known him to be.

The sun peeks in through the blinds, and I decide that it is okay to finally close my eyes and go to sleep…

X

Something is wrong. Something is horribly wrong. All noise has been blocked out somehow, and I am moving in slow motion. They won't let me into Tweek's room, and they won't tell me why other than his heart is speeding up. I know that isn't good; he needs me! I see inside just enough to see Tweek's monitor flat line and then the door is shut in my face…

X

I am running as fast as my legs will carry me. Snow is falling all around me, but it isn't going to stop me. It's cold, but I cannot feel it. My feet pound on the concrete as I head to the house at the edge of town. My breath is ragged, my body aches, but I absolutely cannot stop now. The house at the edge of town beckons to me menacingly; it has a red door that is inviting and repelling all at once. I run into it, fists slamming against the wood and bruising the flesh.

"Open up, you fuck head! I need to talk to you!" I repeat as I slam my fists harder and harder. At once the door flies open and there stands the son of Satan fuming. A bright purple aura flashes around him, making his hair float and his blood red eyes stand out even more. His jaw is clenched, and his eyebrows are knitted angrily. He doesn't scare me though; Damien has nothing that can hurt me more than I am hurting now. "I need to see your father, Damien. Right. Fucking. **Now!**" I demand.

He looks taken aback by the request. Then he starts to laugh, or more cackle. He tosses his head back and chortles for what seems like ages. I growl, grind my teeth and glare. "Who the fuck are you to order me around, mortal? Get the hell over yourself," he goes to slam the door but I shove my foot in so he can't. He looks down then up, and raises a perfect eyebrow. I hear his fingernails scrape down the door pane and he finally throws it open before turning his back to me. I take this as a sign to follow, and so I do.

The door shuts behind me.

This house does not feel earthly, and the atmosphere is too thick. Something like the smell of sulfur penetrates the air. I wrinkly my nose, but say nothing. Damien leads me into the kitchen where Satan himself sits eating. He glances up at our entrance, and Damien goes to lean against the kitchen counter behind him, crossing him arms and cocking his head expectantly.

"Craig Tucker. What a surprise," the devil muses; shutting the newspaper he had been reading, he smiles. His eyes are even redder that Damien's and his teeth are filed to sharp, dangerous points. His red skin flickers like living embers, his long and black nails tap on the tabletop in tempo with how fast my heart is beating.

"I need a favor." The words come out faster than I think them. Damien guffaws, and then throws his hand over his mouth to stifle more snickers of delight. Little fucker, I think. Satan, however, smiles even wider with his eyes twinkling like dark rubies. The kitchen begins to get too hot, and I notice parts of the walls begin peeling off to reveal a flickering background of flames and brimstone. It reminds me of old wallpaper peeling from wood; I cast my attention back to Satan.

He motions with a hand, "Go on."

"I want you to bring my friend back to life. Tweek Tweak."

"What makes you think he is in Hell?" Damien pipes up curiously.

"He is," Satan remarks, and his son looks at him bewildered. "He is your…heh, lover, isn't he Craig? Homosexuality is a sin, and so little Tweek would never be allowed in Heaven no matter how pure he once was." Damien backs down, looking as though he had been whipped.

The kitchen begins to dissolve more and more, revealing what I can only assume is Hell.

"So, answer the question, Mr. Tucker. Is Tweek Tweak your lover?"

A deep blush appears on my face and spreads to everywhere on my body. I feel like I am alight with fire. I avoid the gaze of Satan, and I deplore the look Damien gives me. I have been in love with Tweek Tweak for ages, my emotions growing with each year we spent together. Each moment was spectacular and something new, and when I was with him I felt like I could do anything. I loved him, and he loved me. Shyly, we came out to our family, our friends, and our town. Accepted by many, shunned by few. We didn't care; we were in love.

The memory of our first kiss sweeps past my eyes, and I nod to the devil who claps and laughs gleefully. "Oh, splendid!" I find myself glaring at him. "So, your friend died recently did he?" he looks up in contemplation, his eyes roaming the air above Hell which we are now in. "Ahh, I have found him. Good news, Craig, I can bring him back for you."

"Y-y-you can?" relief floods my body. I can see Tweek again; he can come back!

"Oh, yes. But you have to give me something in return."

"Anything! Just bring him back plea-" I quickly try to get out, but Satan put a finger to his lips and I suddenly lose my voice. I claw at my throat and mouth words that do not come out.

Damien scoffs, "You mortals talk too much. Shut the fuck up and listen before you agree you moron." He begins to circle me as his father catches my gaze and locks our stares. I see Satan's tail _twapping_ the floor, stirring up dust and making small sparks where it hit.

Satan clears his throat and stands up. He looms over Damien and me, his shadows veering both of us easily. I gulp, now terrified of what is going to be asked of me. "I can bring back your lover for a price. His soul is an especially tasty one; a rare specimen that we do not get much of down here. It will cost you a hefty price to set him free, because my minions have already become so fond of him. If you want to get his soul back, Craig, you will need to trade one soul for another."

He snaps his hands, and eight colored orbs appear in his palm. He approaches me, his hooves clicking on the stone below us. Fire shoots up from either side, making the heat all the more intense. Satan bends down and shows me the orbs in his hand.

"The price to get Tweek's soul back is eight other souls, Craig. You will have to collect them for me. You will have to murder eight other people to bring back this person you love so much. One for each level of Hell; this, and only this, will satisfy the requirements. And only then can I release your Tweek."

My mouth is dry and my mind is buzzing. Kill? He wants me to kill people? I'm not sure if I can do this, is the first thought that burns through my skull. I am not a murderer. Sure, I have been a bully, but I could never stick a knife in someone and call them done…could I? All my most precious moments with Tweek flit by like dreams. The last thing I see is his smile.

"I'll…I'll do it." My voice is steady, and this surprises me. "I'll collect eight more souls for you if you'll return Tweek to the world of the living." I can feel Damien lingering behind me, and he must be surprised at my agreement because he says nothing. Not a peep.

The devil smiles again, pleased by my answer. "Once you have them, place their souls in these orbs. Each color is for a different level down here, and you'll need to be creative Craig. Simply poisoning them won't do- at least not for all of them." I curse mentally, because that was exactly what I had planned on doing. He places the orbs in a small pouch he pulled out of nowhere, tightens it and hands it to me. It feels heavy in my hands, and I am wondering what will happen. What if I get caught?

He bends down and puts his face right in front of mine. His breath smells of death and sulfur, and when he talks I try hard not to gag. "I am sending Damien with you. He will help you, and he will keep you from being caught. I realize this is a big task I ask of you, Craig Tucker, but I know you'll come through. Because if you do not complete this by the next new moon- that is thirty days from now- you will never see Tweek again, and I will take your soul and you won't like where it goes." His voice is dripping with malice and my veins run cold. I nod to him, unable to find my voice. He stands up again, satisfied with the agreement. As a final gesture he holds out his hand for me to shake.

I turn to Damien, who just shrugs and nods his head towards his father. I take a deep breath and seal with deal with a handshake. "Good luck," I hear as a whisper before the world around me revolves too quickly and I am back in Damien's house.

TBC.

**Next Chapter:** Chapter 2 of 10: Circle Two, Lust


	2. Chapter 2 of 10: Lust

Chapter 2 of 10: Circle 2, Lust

"_We knew the world would not be the same. A few people laughed, a few people cried. Most people were silent. I remembered the line from the Hindu scripture, the Bhagavad-Gita; Vishnu is trying to persuade the Prince that he should do his duty, and to impress him, takes on his multi-armed form and says, 'Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.' I suppose we all thought that, one way or another…"_

_Robert Oppenheimer_

X

Damien sweeps past me to get into his fridge. I stand there, shell-shocked and holding the bag of orbs Satan had given me. After a moment I blink and clumsily find my way to a chair before collapsing into it. The anti-Christ sits across from me and hands me an apple as he bites into one himself. "It would be stupid to ask if you are alright." He comments, chewing through bits of apple. I gaze down at the apple and the bag of orbs, both sitting on the table.

"What do I do, Damien? How do I _do this_? What did your dad mean by 'levels' of Hell?" I groan, grabbing fistfuls of hair and placing my forehead to the cool tabletop. I hear Damien scooting back a chair; it screeches on the linoleum and then comes a tug on the collar of my shirt. Stumbling, I follow him from the kitchen and into the living room. Damien snaps his fingers and points to a couch, so I go to sit down as he strides over to an old, antique bookshelf.

I watch him run his fingers over the spines of a few books before making a noise of triumph and pulling it out. "When Hell was first created by father it was chaos. All these souls started coming in, and he had no idea where to place certain ones. Is a child molester in the same class as a heretic? Or an unbaptized child, or woman who could not control her lust? The answer is, no. They aren't. Father did his best to separate the souls, and for a while he constructed a pit where they swam forever more." He comes to sit beside me and blows dust off the cover of the book.

"Then, in the 14th century, a man named Dante Alighieri created an epic masterpiece describing Hell; the _Divine Comedy_. The first part of his poem was named _Dante's Inferno_," he pauses, flipping to a page with the words elegantly written across the top.

"Isn't that a video game?"

"Shut up, pig. I'm not done talking." I flip him off, but let him continue his story. "Now, before I was rudely fucking interrupted… The first part tells of his journey through Hell with his guide being the poet Virgil. Alighieri depicted Hell as nine circles of suffering located within the Earth. Now, Hell is below Earth so that was already done. But, the other nine circles did not exist…He was blown away by the idea of souls being divided into levels, according to their crimes whilst they were alive. Thus, he renovated Hell after Dante's ideas."

I nodded, following along. Nine levels of Hell, I thought, and then immediately noticed something was wrong. "Damien," I start, "Your dad only gave me eight orbs. Not nine." The anti-Christ shifted his ruby gaze to me, his eyes narrowed and wandering over my face. He bit his lip and then his face morphed into a grin.

"Because you're already in the first level, Craig. The first level Dante goes through is Limbo, or purgatory. Limbo is reserved for unbaptized children, and virtuous pagans- those who were not sinful, but did not accept Christ. Now, I guess dad bent the rules a little bit, because he obviously doesn't want your soul. Not yet." He pauses. I gulp, but am slightly relieved.

"So, he doesn't want my soul right now."

"Correct."

"Then how am I in Limbo?"

"I guess it's more like purgatory- that little space between Heaven and Hell. You don't have enough will to live anymore without Tweek, but you don't have the guts to kill yourself. You're in the in-between, and you will be doomed here until you succeed or fail in your quest." He cocks his head, his hair shifting and catching the light. I look over him with narrowed eyes. I guess what he is saying has a point.

Tweek Tweak had been my everything until the moment his heart gave out. We had been friends since elementary school, and had progressed to becoming more than that in the past few years. My home life was a wreck, a place I felt unloved and unwanted. I bullied and fought to fill in the void. I took down anyone who tried to oppress me, and I became feared throughout high school. People who had been close to me for years suddenly couldn't stand to be near me; I was uncontrollable and wild. A ticking time bomb, that's what I became to them. The only person who seemed to stick around was Tweek, and God knows why he felt the compulsion to do that. I berated him and talked down to him. He would flinch, and shriek, but he never ran from me like others. Trembling, and with a mug of coffee in hand, he would try to calm my anger and sooth the wounds I held too close to my heart.

He healed me.

He was broken too, though. His family ignoring his existence and substituting love for coffee which became his crutch and almost all he knew. He was ostracized in school for his proclivity to panic and freak out at any given moment. Tweek never had many long term friends; people seemed to think he was too high strung to do anything, or be anything important. I saw differently. As much as he annoyed the piss out of me at times, Tweek was heroic and brave and a damn good human being. Far better than any other person in South Park- save Pip Pirrup who happened to adore Tweek as much as I did.

Two lost souls found each other, and something happened. We became each other's crutch and best friend. I promised him nothing would hurt him, and I could not keep my promise. But, I will make things right for him.

Damien snaps in front of my eyes and I come back to the real world- one without Tweek in it for the moment. "Hello? Lover boy? Anyone home?" I swat his hands away from my face and pick up the book on the table.

"What's the next level, then? What are all the levels?" I flip idly through the book for a few seconds before Damien snatches it back and growls at me under his breath.

"These are the levels," he opens up to an old diagram, showing a picture of what I can only assume is Hell and its circles. "Lust, Gluttony, Greed. Anger, Heresy, Violence. Fraud, and Treachery. Not exactly the seven deadly sins but close enough. Plus, father liked these better. You have to find someone in town to match each of these sins, who will fit in the perfect circle. Kill them in this order, and put their souls away. Easy enough."

I scoff. Sure, easy for him maybe. I'm not a psychotic killer the way he was born to be. I will not fail though, I think and grab the book from Damien again. "I'm going to read this. Where can I stay?"

Damien glares, "Don't you have a fucking family?"

"No."  
". . ."

". . ."

"Couch is all yours brother." Damien slaps my back and heads off to do whatever the fuck it is assholes like him do; probably kicking kittens. I open the book to the beginning page, determined to read up all I can. I've never read Dante's poem, but there is no better time than now to begin. I'll need all the research I can get. Lost in my own world I don't notice Damien putting a blanket and pillow down on the coffee table until an hour later when I get up to piss. I shuffle into the kitchen and grab some food and a soda for fuel. It is going to be a long month, and I'm going to need energy.

X

In the second circle are those who let their lust control them. They are punished for eternity by violent winds that never cease or relent. Their carnal desires in life doom them to this level. Cleopatra. Helen of Troy. Paris. Tristan. Achilles. All are famous for their desires of the flesh. My job is to find someone to lump in with them. Who is the horniest mother fucker in all of South Park?

My mind races through many possibilities. Everyone in my school feels like a whore, so it's hard for me to pinpoint who exactly should go. I hate them all, so it isn't like I'm being picky. I cannot explain it, but it has to be good. The soul has to perfectly match the sin. It can't just be some high school student who gets their jollies from having a fuck in the bathroom, or- god forbid!- premarital sex. No. This person has to be the sicket, horniest dog in all sexdom.

I look around the park for ideas. It's busy because of the newly fallen snow, and everyone seems to be out and about having a damn good time. They all deserve to die, is my bitter retort. My eyes lock onto Stan Marsh who is talking to Wendy Testaburger above the bridge on Stark Pond. He touches her shoulder and she flips her long black locks over her shoulder, almost smacking him in the face with it. He smiles, nods at something she said and then she turns and is gone.

Stan and Wendy have been going out for years; everyone is waiting for the day they get married. Except those who know better. My eyes follow Stan as he waits for Wendy to disappear before making his way under the bridge to the snowy banks below. He looks around, nervous, until a small boy with a green hat shows up, one Kyle Broflovski. Just in time, my brain reckons. The two talk at first, making small gestures. Then Stan grabs Kyle behind the neck, making his hat tumble off and spraying his red locks everywhere. The two begin to kiss like it is the end of the goddamn world. Kyle's hands clench at Stan's parka, and they press their bodies together. Lust for someone you can never have.

Kyle and Stan have been in love with each other since grade school. Both vehemently tried to deny it, and succeeded for a while. Neither knew how the other felt. Stan was supposed to be with Wendy because that was how things were meant to be; the way they always _had_ been. Kyle's family would never approve of a relationship with a male. He was to become a doctor, get a wife, and live a happy Jewish life. But, something changed two years ago. A party at someone's house, I can't remember who, but a hybrid of seven minutes in heaven and spin the bottle was played; and when Kyle spun it happened to land on Stan.

After much debate it was decided that the spin was fair, and they were to go into the closet and kiss for seven minutes. Ears were pressed against the door, but no sounds emitted from inside. When they came out it was obvious something had changed, but no one said anything and they acted like it never happened. Those who knew where to look would find them making out in dark, near empty theater, or touching in an inappropriate manner under Stark Pond Bridge. Those of us who knew kept our mouth shut; not our business, but waiting for it to unfold could be fun.

But, as much as I might like to take down Stan or Kyle, they are not good enough candidates for what I need to do. I turn my gaze from them and see Bebe Stevens crossing the road to her car. She takes a perfectly manicured finger and wipes the corner of her lips while her other hand straightens her blouse. One of the buttons is messed up, her purple bra peeking out from underneath. The tree she had just walked away from is a tall oak, and big enough to hide two bodies. At least.

I wait a moment then see a familiar orange parka strut out. Oh, hello there Kenny McCormick. He runs a hand through his blonde hair and pulls a crumpled pack of cigarettes from the inside of his parka. Before my mind can register I'm yelling at him, "Hey, McCormick." His head snaps up, and a wide grin breaks out across his face. He ambles over and takes a seat next to me on the bench. He smells like sweat, sex and cigarettes. I wrinkle my nose in disgust.

"Well, well, well. Craig Tucker decides to grace the humble little mountain town with his presence. How noble. What brings you here? Got a lighter?" I fish in my pocket and pull out a red Bic; he places the smoke in his mouth and leans forward-far too close for comfort- and I light it for him. He breathes in, hands me the packet and I take one for myself. We sit there in silence for a few minutes, puffing away on our cigarettes until they go out. We snuff them under our shoes and Kenny turns his body to me, crossing one leg over another and leaning on arm over the backside of the bench.

"So, whatcha up to? Haven't seen you in a while. Been holed up in the hospital with Twitchy?"

"Tweek," I snarl.

He shrugs, picks lint off his shoulder. "Heard he kicked the bucket a day or two ago. Poor little lamb." There is no sympathy in his voice. I want to murder him on the spot for thinking Tweek's life is something he can mock. I remain silent, my rage boiling in me like a volcano ready to explode. "I know you guys were close. I'm sorry," and his tone says he means it. I relax, my shoulders slumping down. He inches close to me, his body practically touching mine. "I bet you're feeling pretty lonely without him. I hardly ever saw one of you without the other."

I turn to glare at him, and he leans in close enough to touch my lips with his. One of his hands snakes to the back of my neck and twirls my hair. "It's so unfortunate that he got jumped like that. Wouldn't you like to know who did it?" his breath washes over my face- hot and smelling of smoke. I command my body to keep cool, to not get out of line or get too excited.

"If I knew, I'd kill them. It's what they deserve." I growl out.

"What if I told you I may know someone who knows who did it?"

"I suppose I'd be in your debt." Play it cool, Craig. I pull away from his touch and run a hand through my bangs. Kenny smiles at me with a look I suppose he thinks is seductive.

His voice comes out in a purr, "I think I would like that. What would you be willing to do for this information, Craig?" I feel his hand moving up my thigh and towards areas reserved for Tweek. I mentally prepare myself for what I am going to have to do. I am going to have to seduce Kenny to get the information; Tweek was murdered, plain and simple. If those fuckers hadn't jumped him then he would be alive and I would not be here being molested by Kenny Fucking McCormick and thinking of ways to murder people according to the levels of Hell.

I will seduce him, get the information, and then slit his throat open. In a flash I grab the front of Kenny's parka and pull him into me. His blue eyes widen in shock and they flash with some emotion I cannot truly grasp. "I'd do anything for it." He laughs.

X

Mechanical movements: put the key into the lock, turn it, and open the door. I'm not paying attention to anything but the thoughts swirling through my brain like a violent storm. Tweek's voice is ringing in my ears begging me not to do what I am going to do. I ignore it for the most part, but at one point I respond. 'I need to save you. I cannot go on without you. You did not deserve this.' The voice quiets and fades.

I shut the door behind me and flick on the light. My eyes flicker over to the couch which is serving as my bed in Damien's house. What I see is not a welcoming image. "What the fucking _fuck_!" I shriek, throwing down my coat and bag.

Blonde hair spills over the back of the couch, a head upturned and eyes screwed shut in ecstasy. Pip Pirrup is lying on his back with his head towards the door. His hands are tangled in Damien's hair as he pounds into him. Both are naked, and the air reeks of sex. Sweat drips down Damien as he dips his head down to latch onto Pip's white skin. I'm too stunned to say anything else, and my eyes won't move even though this is not what I wanted to come home to. They don't seem to have heard my outburst, because they continue moving back and forth on the couch. Pip makes a small moan and Damien growls in response. Their lips clash passionately, full of lust and desire. Their bodies are flush against one another and in a moment Damien's back curves and he cries out. His black hair sticks to his face, and when he leans his head back down his red eyes are glowing with a fire. Pip breathes in and out harshly, his body heaving as Damien bends down to plant a soft kiss on his forehead.

I let out a small couch, face alight with blush after seeing my current anti-Christ roomie fucking the small, British outcast who happened to be one of Tweek's only friends besides me. Damien looks around and then he finds me. His jaw drops and his eyes scream rage. I feel the room grow hot, and I begin to sweat with fear. Pip asks a question I don't heart but I can recognize the tone of his soft voice.

"What…the _fuck_…are _you_ doing here?"

"I was coming home to do some more research, but then this happened and now I am sufficiently freaked out." I respond coldly. I can see his hackles rise in defense. Pip finally notices I am there and screams like a small girl, pushing Damien off to hard he hits his head on the coffee table on the way down to the floor. He apologized profusely to me as he puts on his boxers and his light blue polo. Damien snarls at me with all the viciousness he can muster and follows Pip's lead.

My insides are twisted. I'm not sure why, either. Is it because I just saw two people I know having sex where I am supposed to sleep for the next thirty days? Or is it because I'm jealous? Not of Damien _or_ Pip, but of the fact that they were able to share this moment together. Before Tweek got sick we had our moments hidden away in my bedroom or his. Hands grabbing and clinging, lips swollen from kissing fervently and often and bodies flush against one another not daring to be apart. His blonde hair would be wild and spread out against the wall, the floor, or the bed while his toffee eyes widened and glazed over in want. He would look like some angel and I would not be able to stop myself.

He was perfect, and he chose me to share those moments with.

"Craig…" Pip's voice is soft, and he takes a small step towards me with an outstretched hand. It is then I notice my fists are clenched so tight that my nails are digging into my palm and blood begins to trickle down. I unfurl my fists and shake it out, tiny drops of blood peppering the floor. Pip bites his thumbnail looking far too worried while Damien doesn't even look abashed. "You should sit down, mate."

I nod, but avoid sitting on the couch and instead sink into the loveseat next to the television set. Pip sits down next to Damien, and leans forward with furrowed brow. "Quit looking like the world is ending. We fucked on the couch, big fucking whoop!" Damien throws his arms up and Pip gives him what I suppose is his version of a glare.

"You could have done it in the bedroom. You could have not…rutted like some animal on my fucking bed!" I snap at him, flipping him off with both fingers.

"Put those away or I'll bite them off."

"Freak."

"Lonely, white boy. Pathetic soul."

"Stop this right this instant, you two!" Pip's voice breaks our argument in half. The anti-Christ and I continue to glare at one another and neither of us blink or break eye contact. Damien finally leans back into the plush of the couch and Pip lets out a long sigh. "Craig, I'm so sorry for what happened. Tweek was…he was one of my dearest friends."

I turn my rage to him, "You mean your only friend, you French faggot?" I regret what I say immediately. What possessed me to say that? To Pip of all people who is so kind and considerate and never tries to fight with anyone. What compels me to try to tear apart people who have done me no harm? I feel like a disgusting person, and feel myself blush with embarrassment as Damien stands up and flames spark from his mouth in a volcanic rage.

"Apologize to him immediately or I'll rip out your stomach and send you to Hell with your fucking lover." Damien snaps his eyes a dark red and his aura unmistakably growing more deadly. Pip just sits there looking at me with those blue eyes.

"Sit down, Damien. I don't need an apology. He doesn't mean it."

Damien whirls, "How can you say that? Did you hear how he insulted you? How he talked down to you like he is some godly creature? Pip, he-" Pip holds up a hand to silence his lover. I am shocked by how calm and serene he is in this moment.

"Please, sit down," Pip asks softly, his hand reaching up to grab one of Damien's clenched fists. I watch as Damien calms himself in seconds and falls back into the couch. I am ashamed now; what would Tweek say if he saw me.

'_W-w-way to be an ass..ngk…Craig. You b-butthole!'_

"I'm sorry, Pip." I say softly. "I didn't mean that, I'm just…I'm having a difficult time right now. I'm sure you are too, and I don't know why I said that…"

"You're angry, Craig. It isn't a big deal, chap, really! I'm used to it by now and it hardly bothers me." He smiles sincerely making his whole face light up. He reminds me of Tweek and I feel my heart pound in my chest. Damien scoffs and looks away; anywhere but as his smiling boyfriend, but I can tell he is proud of him for being the bigger person. "Tweek was my very, very good friend. I know he loved you dearly; he always had something to say about you. He liked your eyes a whole lot, would talk about them for hours on end when we were able to hang out. I miss him, Craig. And while I cannot condone murdering people in exchange for someone, if it had to be for anyone I am glad it is Tweek Tweak. I may not be worth much, old chap, but I'll help you however I can." His words touch me, making me have more hope somehow. The idea of someone as pure as Pip deciding he will help me is admirable, and I cannot express my joy so I remain silent.

The three of us sit in silence for a few minutes until I remember the park and all that had gone down there. "Damien," I say and he whirls to look at me with unfeeling eyes. "I found out who is Lust." This grabs his attention and his perfect face splits into a malevolent grin that sends cold shivers dancing up and down my spine.

"Who?"

"Kenny McCormick."

"Good choice." Damien compliments and I nod at him. "If you can get his soul he won't be able to return to the world of the living. Lord knows Dad wants his soul almost as badly as he wants to hold onto Tweek's. It will sweeten the pot, so to speak." The grin grows wider, Cheshire-like in the light. "How will you do it?"

"I have something else I need him for first, but I'm still planning it." I reply, running my hands through my hair and rubbing my temples.

Damien cocks his head, "What is it you must do?"

"Damien, don't pry! It is rude."

"I have a right to know. I'm supposed to help him after all."

"I'm going to seduce him." Silence lapses over us once more. Pip's eyes have widened to an unbelievable size and he resembles an owl for a moment. "He knows something about the people who jumped Tweek. If that hadn't happened, he wouldn't have gotten sick, and died. He would be here. I'll do anything I can to find out who did it. Anything…" my voice becomes weak and quiet. The two lovers stare at me, not speaking and hardly blinking.

Pip is the first person who speaks, "But…killing those who hurt Tweek won't bring him back, Craig. It won't reverse time. You have been given a chance, albeit not a very nice one, but a chance to bring Tweek back. How many people are you willing to kill for him, Craig? Do you think he would appreciate that?" And while his words ring true in my ears, I have already made up my mind on what I am going to do. Nothing will stop me; I refuse to falter. I, Craig Tucker, do not fail, and I do not falter.

"You just don't understand, Pip. I appreciate your concern for me, and I know that Tweek would not want this, but he is dead. He was murdered! I can't just sit back and do nothing when those bastards who did this to him are alive and having a life. Tweek's was taken. Unless I do this, unless I do what I have to he will never smile at us. He won't even twitch, or scream, or babble nonsense the way he used to. I won't have someone to take care of, and no one will take care of me…" I look away from him, embarrassed at showing my feelings to someone I shouldn't. I feel weak showing my emotions, but something about telling it to Pip is liberating. I feel hot liquid roll down my cheeks and I realize I've begun to cry. Pip reaches into his pants pocket and hands me a white handkerchief; it would be him who carries something like this around, but I take it as ridiculous as the gesture is, it is nice.

After I wipe away the remnants of the tears I turn my attention to the son of the Devil who is twirling his hair around his long index finger. "What do you think?" I ask Damien who has been unnaturally silent given his gigantic mouth and proclivity to barge in to conversations.

He tongues his cheek in thought then pops his jaw before coolly saying, "I say go for it."

X

Kenny lived in a ramshackle duplex on the outskirts of town. Close enough to be in the action, but far enough away to feel free from the constraints of our small town. The paint was peeling from the outside and one of his windows was broken, and covered with some cardboard and silver duct tape. The ground was covered in snow that had turned a dingy brown from all the people that had walked over it since it had fallen two days ago.

I looked up at the shit-stain that was the duplex. My nose wrinkles in disgust and I tug the hood of my jacket over my head to obstruct anyone's view of me. Not that I'm worried, not in this part of town. No one rats on anyone here, because if they did it's their ass next.

The blonde had ordered me to come over at night, soon as the sun set over the mountains. I heaved the backpack over my shoulder more securely. Inside it was the pink orb that I took to stand for lust, a gag, some duct tape, rope, a bottle of chloroform I found in Damien's cabinet- creepy- and a knife. I was ready as I would ever be.

Two knocks on the door and then I wait patiently for Kenny. In a few moments he opens the door far too quickly and leans against it with a smile plaguing his lips. "Hello, Craig. What a pleasant surprise to see you here." He jokes, reaching out to grab my coat and pull me in. I stumble in, tripping over a messed up doormat. Once I regain my composure I am assaulted with the scent of stale cigarettes, Febreeze, and a slight tinged scent of weed. It doesn't surprise me at all; it is a very Kenny scent, but it is still nasty.

"This place is fucking disgusting," I comment, wrinkling my nose in disgust. I take a few steps in and admire what living as Kenny entails. Abandoned beer cans, ping pong balls. Oh, a condom! Nice touch. Stack of porn, leftover McDonald's, dirty-or clean?-laundry thrown about haphazardly. My personal favorite is the inflatable moose head with thongs strung on its antlers. "People like you disgust me." I growl under my breath, kicking an empty can of beer. Kenny strides past me, his hips swaying in what I suppose he thinks is seductive, and it might be is I did not find him so repulsive.

He turns his blonde head, eyes my backpack, "You can lay that anywhere, dude." He continues to walk down the hall, and I wordlessly follow. My heart is pounding away in my chest, and my worries begin to swirl in my head and fill up all space. I'm not a killer. No matter how much I hate someone I could never murder anyone, but I am going to have to. My hands shake when I look at them, and I clench my fists tightly and order myself to calm the fuck down.

Kenny opens his bedroom door and I can hear soft music thumping from an old boom box. He jumps onto his bed, making a come hither motion with his index finger. I flip him off and the reply is a hearty laugh. "You promised me information." I snarl, walking over to the edge of the bed. Gingerly, I set down the backpack and make sure it can be within reach.

"I'm gonna need a little bit of reminding, Craig." Kenny purrs, sitting on his knees upon his bed so that his height matches mine. His nose brushes against mine and I fight the urge to knock him out. He brings his hands up to run through my hair, and an involuntary shiver runs along my spine, as though ice has been dropped down my shirt. His lips are on mine in a second, his tongue probing at my locked mouth. He whispers against my lips, "Open up or you get nothing." Biting back a smartass retort I push our lips together and tilt his head so that he has better access. Making a pleased noise, I can feel his tongue touching mine. It is disgusting; not like kissing Tweek at all.

He starts to fall back; his hands still tangled in my hair cause me to fall forward in sync with him. We hit the mattress and then his hands move- very quickly- to my jacket which he unzips with lightning speed and precision. I pull back and my hands push him down hard into the mattress. "Oooh, you want it rough? I bet Tweek never liked it hard." He thinks I am playing with him, but he is walking a thin line.

"Tell me what you know, or this goes no further."

"You can't tell me you don't want this," his hand reaches for my inner thigh but I glare daggers and he laughs raucously. "Fine, fine!" he consents while blowing hair out of his near perfect face. This is it, my mind screams, this is the first step towards vengeance. "I don't know who decided it, but there was a pact at school between some of the kids in our grade to teach Tweek a lesson."

"Why? He never did anything to anyone."

"That's just it, little Craig foo foo. He was a waste of space."

"Fuck you!"

"Do you want to know or not?" he snaps, his blue eyes glimmering dangerously in the dim light. I scoff but nod, and try to keep my comments to myself. It won't do to piss him off when he finally gets to the point. "All Tweek did was squeal, shriek, flail, and panic. Two-thirds of our class couldn't tell you his name, and they looked right through him the way most would. But there was that small part that knew him from elementary then middle school, and his existence became an annoyance." He pauses, his head cocking as if to ask if I have any objections. Kenny licks his lips and continues, "Some decided that our little mountain town would be better off without him; he was a fly they wanted very much to squash but there was one small thing standing in their way…"

"Me," I breathe out.

"You. See, no one wants to fight you Craig. It isn't that they are scared of you; it's that they respect you, and they know you have the rage of a fucking bull on steroids. Tweek was never seen without you, and they knew this because they watched you for months- waiting for the perfect time to move." I feel sweat dripping down the bridge of my nose, and my throat is too dry to even speak. In a flash Kenny rolls us so that he is on top and pinning me down; my reaction time is far too slow, and he gets me into a good pinned position before I have the ability to try and resist. His mouth appears by my ear, and I can feel his hips grinding into my own with his erection poking its way around for a friend.

Kenny's voice appears in my ear husky and low, "Then they had it. They falsified the slip that sent you to the principal's office that afternoon. You told Tweek to wait for you on a bench outside the office, but his paranoia got the better of him and he had to go outside the school for fresh air. And that is when they struck. One of them lured him out, one provided the knife, one held him down, one did it because he could, one watched and one did it to prove he was man enough. You are looking for six people that did it to him, Craig. Maybe seven, but that is really iffy if you know what I mean." His lips move to my throat and I feel his tongue tracing patterns over the vein there before sucking on it hard and pressing himself flush against me.

I cry out, cursing how good it feels and how treacherous my body is. "You're going to love what I do to you, Craig," I feel his hand trail up my arm and then something sharp pushes down on my wrist and loud snap tell me it cannot be good. My head flies back to see what it was and I find my left wrist is now handcuffed to his bedpost. Frantically I search the room for the key and see it almost within reach on his bedside dresser. My backpack is now desperately out of reach and even if I could get to it in time, it could give Kenny the time to bolt before I can do what I need to. I am trapped, with no weapons and no way to escape.

Kenny is going to have his way with me, regardless of anything I could say to convince him otherwise. Kenny seems to forget about my other hand as he works my button up open, and tugs my pants down to my knees…I begin to cuss in my head and pray to whatever God will listen. Tweek's voice pops in, the voice of an angel, and tells me to take a deep breath and calm down. That I can do this, and he believes me.

"It'll make you forget all about that little freak," are Kenny's last words before my fist connects with his nose. He flies back, collapsing in a mass on the floor. In a flash I snatch the key and unlock my hand. Kenny is screaming obscenities at me, blood covering his face and oozing out of his nose like water. His face is screwed up in anger, and he feebly attempts to stand up as I reach for my backpack. He sees this and flings it out of the way, against his television in the back of the room. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Tucker?" he yells, one hand pinching his nose in an attempt to stop the blood that keeps coming.

"Don't you ever fucking badmouth Tweek in front of me!"

"You fucking bitch," he snarls, venom alight in his eyes, "He got what he fucking deserved and I hope you join him soon you freak!" with this he lunges at me, and I dodge just in time. He smashes face first into his bedpost, and he sort of crumples dejectedly before groaning and propping himself up on his hands and knees.

I snatch up my backpack and fling it open looking for the knife. I find it, shiny and cold, and grab the hilt pulling it from the dark recesses of the bag like its goddamn Excalibur. Kenny is still trying to get himself right; all those blows to the head and face seem to have confused him and made him slow. Before he can figure out what is happening I plunge the knife into his back and pull out. Blood splatter covers the white walls and the sheets, as well as my face. He lets out a choke sob, his arms shaking as they give in to the weight of his body. He collapses onto the bed, his breath coming out ragged.

"C-Craig…w-w-why?" he manages to choke out, blood tinting his lips. I can see nothing but red and rage; he dares to ask me why? When he knew all this information that could have prevented this, but he did nothing.

"Because you did nothing, and he died. This is what scum like you deserve." I whisper out, and his eyes go wide as I jam the knife down into the back of his neck. He chokes, his body convulses and blood beings to pour out of the wound and stain everything it touches. I look Kenny straight in the eye and watch the lights go out.

It takes me a moment to gather myself before I remember the orbs. I slowly trod back to the backpack and grab the pinkish red orb that represents Lust. I don't exactly know what to do so I hold it in my palm and feel it pulsate like a heart. Suddenly, something white lifts off of Kenny and floats toward me. It looks almost like a ghost, but it isn't. It makes no noise, and swirls around my hand before being sucked into the orb like a vacuum. The orb vibrates, glows and heats up, causing me to have to thrust it back inside the bag.

Finally everything hits me like a semi, and I find myself stumbling back to a wall with my eyes locked on Kenny's body. My own body aches and shakes from what I have done; idly I wipe the blood that I know is splattered across my face. My shirt is beyond saving, and I am thankful it isn't one I love.

Static sounds, and my head whips to the left to see that the television is on and grey static is all that is there. Sighing I lean back my head and shut my eyes. "Craig." I grimace, ignoring the voice in my head. I'm not in the mood for it. "Craig Tucker." There it is again, louder than it has ever been and more clear too.

"Fuck off, you fucking fuck!" I scream, opening my eyes and finding something heart stopping before me. The devil is now projected inside the television, his eyes wide and a vague smile playing his lips. I feel bile rise in my throat; did I just tell the devil to fuck off? Oh crap. "Uhm…" I whine out, face palming and pulling back my bangs in embarrassment.

Satan chuckles, "You have a wonderful vocabulary, Mr. Tucker." He leans forward and his face comes out of the television, like Sadako from the Ring. I sit stock still as he crawls out of Kenny's television and stands up looming over me with his head almost touching the ceiling. He hunches over to look at Kenny's dead body and a smile spreads maliciously across his face, crinkling his eyes and revealing sharp teeth. "What a great job you did! Was it planned this way?" he turns his head slowly and his eyes lock on mine.

"No, not really. He tried to rape me, and then things kind of spiraled. Wasn't supposed to be so bloody, I guess." I say, my voice staying steady even though I can feel it wavering. Satan nods, and hums as if in thought. I reach inside the back of orbs and pull out the Lust one. A flicker crosses the devils face, and he plucks it from the palm of my hand.

"Beautiful," he comments, turning it over and examining it from every angle. I see Kenny's face flicker in the pink depths of the orb, panic and distress on his face. Long fingers curl over the orb and the devil crushes it in his palm; flames surround his hand momentarily and then he claps the remaining dust out of his hand. "You've done very well, Craig. Very, very well. I look forward to seeing you again and getting your next specimen. Kenny was a perfect choice. But, before I go I have one thing I forgot to mention upon first making the deal."

Tremors shoot all over my body. "What?"

"For every soul you get me, I'll bring back Tweek for 24 hours and you will get him all to yourself." With another fleeting smile he erupts in flames and then is gone, leaving the carpet singing and a trail of flames that begins to spread towards Kenny's body. The whole bed is on fire before I can register what was just said.

And then the doorbell rings.

TBC.

**Next Chapter: Chapter 3 of 10: Gluttony.**


	3. Chapter 3 of 10: Gluttony

Chapter 3 of 10: Circle Three, Gluttony

"_The flesh endures the storm of the present alone; the mind, those of the past and future as well as the present. Gluttony is a lust of the mind. _

_**Thomas Hobbes**_

X

The doorbell rings once more as I gather my bag and scamper from Kenny's room. In the doorway I glance back once more at his body which is now going up in flames. It smells horrible, and I scurry out. I bolt for the front door and swing it open with all the force I can gather. What I see stops me dead, my bag falling from my hand and my heart deadpans.

He's standing on the porch, his hands wringing together nervously. His head whips around from whatever he had been staring at to look me in the eye. His hair is wild, untamed like a lion's mane and the brightest blonde I have ever seen. It spurts out in tufts and frames his elegant face. His toffee colored eyes are lined with deep bruises from lack of sleep, which makes them stick out that much more. His skin is pale, and his lips are a perfect cupid's bow and parted as if about to speak. His body shakes, the small frame trembling like a leaf in the wind. He looks like angel.

"C-c-craig…" he breathes, but my name barely leaves his lips before I reach out, grab, and pull him into me. I crush him against my chest and take in his scent and the warmth that course through me at his touch. He squeaks, and then stops trembling, and with a small sigh his shoulders relax.

Behind us the house continues to burn.

X

I carry him home, because I can. He wraps his arms around my neck and his legs around my waist. He is so light, so paper thin, that I am worried he will blow away. Sirens go off in the distance, and I know the police and firefighters are on their way to where we are. I bolt away as fast as I can. He holds on tight, and makes small scared noises whenever paranoid thoughts pop into his head.

We reach Damien's house quickly enough, and I don't even notice how out of breath I am until I place Tweek down on the porch and slump against the wall. He reaches out to grab onto me in case I fall, but I simply grab his hand in return. He blushes, those owl eyes widening imperceptibly. He smiles, then, a soft and sweet smile that he only gives to me.

And that's when I notice it.

Tweek is covered in cuts and bruises. His lip is split and there is a bruise high on his cheekbone as well as circling one eye. Three gashes fall diagonal from his eyebrow to the bridge of his nose. I can see a handprint shaped bruise on his throat, but everything else is covered.

I see red. I snap my hand out to grab onto his wrist, and pull up the sleeves of his collared shirt. He gasps, and struggles while shrieking and panicking. His alabaster skin is now littered with bruises and scratch marks. Upon his wrist were crudely cut words, jagged, scabbed, and angry. Hand prints were bruised into his forearm, and long scratches peeked out from his bicep.

"Who did this to you?" I demand, anger boiling in me. "Who touched you, Tweek?" He whimpers, his eyes begging, pleading, and filling with tears that bubble and then begin to fall elegantly down his cheek, leaving streaks and plummeting to the wood of the porch.

"I-I-I don't… I c-c-can't t-talk about it…" he chokes out, his knees buckling as he collapses to his knees, his hands curled into fists and his head hung, as if in shame. I look down at him, completely frozen, completely in shock. "D-Don't make me t-t-t-talk abou-about it…" he pleads, looking up at me with a face twisted in pain and sadness.

I bend down, and cover his arm up with his sleeve. He sniffles, and wipes away the tears with his arm. Gingerly, I help him back up to his feet and unlock the door. We enter the dark house, and I turn on every light I can while Tweek shifts nervously in the doorway. "You can come in, Tweek. C'mon. Let me make you some food." He nods and shuts the door; shaking it to make sure it won't open again and shuffles into the kitchen. I open the fridge and notice that there isn't much to eat, simply the basics. And, I'm guessing it's because Damien doesn't need to eat- being the fucking anti-Christ and all- but for Pip's benefit, should the need ever arise.

Deciding I'll make grilled cheese, I pull out cheese slices, and butter and search the pantry for bread, finding a small loaf hidden in the back. Tweek has sat down at the kitchen table, and is looking around suspiciously at everything. "You okay?" I ask, pulling pans out from the cupboards and lighting the burner.

"Hmmm…" he comments, twirling a strand of hair around his index finger. We sit in near silence, neither of us speaking and the only noise is coming from the sizzle of the pan. I finish with the food and place it on a plate before putting it down before Tweek. He looks at it, and then at me. His eyes sparkle, and he smiles. My heart stops. Before I know what I'm doing I lean in, my hand behind his neck pulling him to me, and our lips connect. Then, like magic, sparks begin to fly.

He squeaks as I push into him, trying to deepen the kiss, but then he relaxes and he moans quietly. He tastes just like I remember, and I try not to go absolutely crazy on him. His hand finds my knees, and he squeezes as we continue to kiss like the world is ending. Finally, he pulls back, licks his lips, and gives a shaky laugh. "I missed y-y-ou…" he says as he runs a hand over the side of my face. I kiss his palm, and then hold his hand in mine.

"I miss you too. So, so much."

"It's s-so good to s-s-s-see you."

"Tweek, who hurt you? Who did this to you?" I run another hand down his injured arm and feel him tense up. "I just want to help you." I beg him. He sighs, and pulls his hand away from mine. I clench a fist, and bite my lip in frustration.

"I can't t-tell you anything, ngh.. B-but I wish I could." He says, fiddling with the hem of his shirt, and then reaching for his grilled cheese and taking a meager bite. "I can tell you, t-though, that Hell is horrible… And, t-t-that c-certain demons take pleasure in souls like mine…ngh.."

"What do you…mean?"

"He means pure, untouched souls. Well, in _his_ case almost pure, and hardly untouched. Right, Craig?" comes Damien's voice. Tweek shrieks and jumps out of his chair, toppling it and his plate to the floor. His eyes widen, and his mouth hangs open in a silent scream. Damien grins, his teeth looking unnaturally sharp, and his eyes flickering almost like embers.

His eyes flash to mine, and I feel my lips curl in a snarl. "Fuck off, Damien." I growl, and step in front of Tweek like I am protecting him when I know that Damien isn't going to do anything. Tweek grabs the back of my shirt and squeezes it so tight that it feels almost suffocating.

Damien chuckles, and snaps his finger which makes the shattered mess of grilled cheese and ceramic disappear from the floor. He hops up onto the counter and crosses his leg while still grinning maniacally at us. "You are just always so pleasant, Craig. And such a lush vocabulary! What I am trying to say is, Hell is reserved for bad souls; and as far as souls go, Tweek's is simply irresistible. I can smell it from here." He purrs out, and I can feel rage bubbling up inside of me. Tweek whines loudly, and I turn to see his eyes wide with fear.

"Shut up before I murder you."

"Oooh. Foreplay? And in front of your spazzy sex toy. How ballsy."

I lunge at him and right as my fist would collide with his face, he vanishes in a puff of smoke. I'm going too fast, and I can't stop. My fist smashes into the cabinet that was hidden behind Damien, and it breaks. I scream, and pull back, my knuckles throbbing. Tweek rushes toward me, and gently takes my hand in his, examining it. I wince at even the softest touch. "I t-th-hink you b-b-broke it…" he says sadly, his eyebrows knitted in concern.

"Such anger; you should really take a chill pill." Damien's voice drifts from the opposite side of the room. He is sitting upon the counter again, a bored look on his normally smug face. "I can heal that, but only if you promise to play nice."

"Please, f-fix it, gahh.." Tweek says, his eyes pleading. Damien's face bursts into another grin and he hops over to us. He takes my damaged hand, mumbles a few words and the bones snap back in place as the pain dissolves. "T-thank you, D-D-Damien…" Tweek says, his head hung low as to not meet his eyes.

"Don't mention it. Now, Craig. Great job you did on Kenny. Wow-whee!" He flips his black hair from his face, his eyes shining like deadly rubies. Tweek is shaking softly, and I grab his hand in mine as sort of a soothing effort.

"It was kind of, uhm, unplanned. Didn't mean to get so bloody." I reply sheepishly.

"Blood is good. Dad likes blood." Damien responds tartly, getting some juice from the fridge and drinking out of the carton. Tweek lashes forward, his hand smacking the juice container away from Damien; it falls to the floor, spilling all over the tile. Damien is awestruck, his hand trembles in calm rage, and his eyes flare with deadly malice. "The fuck you do that for? That was my juice!" he snarls viciously.

"D-drinking from the carton is dangerous! GAH. G-g-germs!" Tweek defends, his arms held near his chest, wringing his hands nervously. Damien disappears, and reappears right in front of Tweek, the empty carton in his hand and trembling with his body. "I-I'm n-n-not sorry! I'm doing you a f-f-f-favor, ngh.." he responded, unabashed by Damien's advances. I was frozen; when did Tweek turn into such a defiant badass?

Then Damien burst into laughter- it started as a snicker, then a giggle, then a full blown laugh that reverberated along the kitchen walls. The anti-Christ placed a hand on the top of Tweek's head and rubbed vigorously. "You're too cute. No wonder Craig likes you. No use crying over spilt juice," snap of fingers and it's gone, "Follow me, Craig. We've got work to do." He walks out of the kitchen and I hear him climbing the stairs at a leisurely place.

I snort, and grab Tweek's hand before running after him. "Can't it wait? I mean… I only get Tweek for a few more hours."

"Until you finish Gluttony, and then you get him for another day. And, you are wasting precious daylight here, Tucker." Damien drawls, leaning over his stairway balcony to look down on us. I grip Tweek's hand tighter and he nuzzles my shoulder with his face; his eyes are shut in sadness, and the trembling in his lips tell me that he is trying not to break down.

I wrap him in my arms not caring about what smart comment Damien has to say next. "It will be okay, Tweek. You won't be down there for much longer. I'm going to rescue you. I'm going to bring you back."

"D-d-don't wanna go…ngh…" Tweek mumbles softly into my shirt. I can feel tears soaking into my shirt. I rub his back and kiss the top of his head. "D-don't let them t-t-t-take m-me, ngh.." he begs, and looks up at me with such scared, sad eyes that it makes me want to hide him away.

Damien coughs, cutting into our moment. "You can have your time together. But, tomorrow we need to go over the next circle. I'll leave you two be; Pip should be expecting me soon anyhow. See you soon, Tweeker." He blows a small kiss in Tweek's direction and then, as is his style, vanishes in a puff of black smoke.

X

I had four hours left with Tweek. We laid in my bed for two hours talking; he couldn't tell me anything about Hell, it's demons, or who killed him but I didn't really want to hear it anyways. We talked about coffee- which I made him ten cups of to appease him for the moment- and kissing. And we did some of that as well. We watched Arrested Development, and Tweek quoted every word flawlessly; we bought ice cream from the store and put way too many topping on top of it; we licked the remainder off each other's faces and then he yawned loudly, his eyes sagging with exhaustion. His eyes grow duller, and his skin paler than normal… Time was drawing to an end.

So, here I lay with him beside me. He's asleep on my chest, his arms wrapped around me protectively and keeping me warm. The only sounds I hear are the fan whirling and Tweek's soft snores. I glance down at his wheat colored hair and sigh.

In the morning he will be gone again.

What will it feel like to be this empty? It's not fair to give someone something they desire then wrench it away.

But, life isn't fair.

And, I'll get Tweek back; no doubt about that. So without allowing any further thoughts to enter my mind, I curl up into Tweek and fall asleep to the sounds of him breathing.

X

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty. Time for work." The curtains are flung open as Damien's voice reaches my ears. I groan and curl further into the warmth that is Tweek's body; he's awfully soft and squishy, even if it is Tweek… I open my eyes a sliver and am greeted, not by Tweek, but by a long pillow clutched in my embrace. Immediately I sit up and search the room for him.

"Where is he?" I ask while rubbing sleep from my eyes.

"He's gone."

"Where?"

"Hell." Damien responds coolly, admiring his reflection in the mirror on the back of my door. "You only got twenty four hours with him. I hope they were well spent. And if you want to see him again, we need to discuss Gluttony."

I groan and fall back to the bed with a loud thump. Yesterday seemed like a dream now; there were so many thing I didn't get a chance to do with him. And, yes, I can bring him back again at the cost of another human life. A worthless human life, a voice inside my head croons. Tweek's soft smile flashes through my head and the bruises he had adorned upon his skin stand out in my mind. I cannot let that happen.

Without any other bantering between us I get out of bed and head downstairs to the living room. Damien follows suit slowly and at his own leisurely pace. Damien summons the Dante's book from its place upon the bookshelf and flips it open to the next level. I look over the page, over its drawings and it's elegant script.

"Gluttony is the third level. It is guarded by the great worm, Cerberus."

"Is it really a worm? I thought it was a three headed dog." I cut in. Damien sighs and cracks his neck irritably.

"It's a description, you buffoon, don't take it literally. It _is_ a three headed dog. Can I please continue with this brief? I really have better things to be doing than sitting here with you. Jesus. Cerberus watches over the gluttons; they drown and flounder in filth and sludge. It is important to note that gluttony is not simple an overindulgence of food or drink. It can be anything that one partakes in with much vigor. Sex, drugs, money- though that's more toward greed. You get my drift though, yes?"

I snatch the book from him and trace my eyes over the page a few times before understanding what it is asking of me. I nod, and slam it shut before handing it back to Damien. "I think I have a plan."

"Already?" Damien asks, laying back and watching me get up and climb the stairs. His grin is contagious and I feel it spreading to my face. "Eager to get back that little freak, aren't you?" I ignore the chiding, and walk into the bathroom.

The water falls from the showerhead and begins steaming up the room as I undress. I stare at myself in the mirror and imagine Tweek right next to me, making some comment about the heat of the shower, the steam, or how we could slip and fall to our death on the tile. Clenching my fists, I turn away from the illusion in the mirror and let the water pour down on me. And for a moment, it's almost cleansing. I almost feel clean again, but when I look at my hands I see blood. Like Lady Macbeth, I don't think they will be clean for a long time, or with any amount of washing.

Banishing the thoughts from my head I focus on the task at hand.

X

South Park Mall is almost what I would assume an equivalent to hell. I sip idly on the soda I had bought from one of the convenient stands and watch the people amble by. So many victims, but none quite perfect enough. I feel my eyes narrow, as if by doing this it will hone in on the perfect target. It doesn't work so well and I plant my face onto the table in exasperation. I have been creeping here for the last four hours. Nothing!

"Craig Tucker?" comes a soft, sultry voice. I roll my head to the side and look up with little to no interest. Bebe Stevens is at the edge of my table, about ten bags of shoes clutched in each hand. She smiles at me, her teeth perfectly straight and white and her lips outlined in some sort of glittery pink shit. "Can I sit here?" she asks, motioning to the empty seat across from me with his chin. I nod and sit up as to not be rude.

She sits down, unloading all her bags to the floor with a loud sigh. "Jesus," she breathes, running a hand through her hair, "Those were getting heavy."

"I can imagine," I comment eyeing her purchases. "How many pairs of shoes do you have in there?"

"I dunno; not enough, I can tell you that. So! Craig it's been _forever_. How have you been?" she asks, tossing her hair over her shoulder and leaning forward with her chin on her palm. She bats her eyelashes at me, a sexy grin plastered on her lips. I cock an eyebrow.

"I've seen better days."

"Oh yes. Poor, little…hm. What was his name again? Terk?" she looks off to the side, twirling a piece of her golden hair absently, not really caring.

"Tweek." I grind out, my patience already wearing thin with her.

"Whatever. Hey! So, like, listen. My parents are going to be gone tonight, some sort of work thing, I don't know. And it's kind of creepy staying all by myself," she pouts out her lower lip, "You should come over. We can catch up, maybe watch a movie. Talk. Sit in the hot tub." I feel her foot rub against mine in what she must feel is a seductive mood, but truly only makes me watch to stomp on her foot and break all the bones.

Before I absolutely lose my shit, I push back my chair and get up. She looks up at me with a shocked expression. "Sorry. I don't think so. There really isn't anything for us to talk about, Bebe. I'm not really one for talk of shoes or plastic surgery, but thanks." And with that I turn on my heel and begin to walk towards the exit. This day has been an absolute waste of my time, I think bitterly.

I'm stopped in my tracks by small tap on the back of my head. I whirl, mouth ready to open fire when I see Bebe grinning at me from her seat. She point down, and I cock my head before I see a balled up receipt on the floor by my feet. I bend down and scoop it up; inside is a neatly scrawled note:

_**How about we talk about Tweek?**_

I look back at her with my eyes alight with fire. She winks at me and leans back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. I crumple the receipt back up in my hand, but I've already made my decision. Guess it's time to visit Bebe's.

X

"Oh, Craig! You are just the sweetest thing!" Bebe says, unlocking her front door and striding in. I follow her, my arms weighed down by her shopping bags. I toss them all onto the floor and heave over, out of breath. Somehow I had been convinced to buy Bebe ten more pairs of heels, carry all her bags home, and help her organize them for information on Tweek. Why did it seem like everyone in this town knew something about it but me?

Bebe's heels click on the wood floor as she makes her way to the staircase. "Follow me," she beckons, her face pulled into a wide smile. She saunters up the stairs and out of sight to the left, leaving me with the copious amount of bags to pick up and haul up. It takes me about ten minutes but I finally release all shopping bags onto her floor. For a moment I'm thrown back by the loudness of her bedroom.

Pink rugs over the carpet, pink walls, pink canopy bed for Christ's sake. How old is this girl?! She coughs softly into her hand and I turn my head to see her sitting on the edge of her bed. She had her left leg over her right, her skirt hiked up and revealing quite a bit of her thigh and…is that her underwear?! I feel my face go crimson, and I cough awkwardly myself. She leans back, arching her back and pushing her breasts out in an attempt to look seductive. "Why don't you come sit next to me, hm? This bed is _so_ comfy." And she pats her sparkly pink comforter with a perfectly manicured hand.

I trudge over to the egde and take a precarious seat, not wanting to be closer to her than need be. "So, Tweek," I say in an attempt to keep her at bay. I can smell the desire rolling off her in waves, but I don't think it's for my body. Knowing Bebe she wants me to sleep with her so she can con more shoes out of me; because all the ones I cleaned my wallet out for today were apparently not enough. I will never understand the allure of having twenty eight different pairs of heels that practically look the same.

And Bebe isn't unattractive, but she isn't my type. I guess if you like that doe-eyed, bottle blonde, big tits thing it would be nice. But it's slightly repulsive for me. She scoots closer, her leg pressed to mine, her hand snaking around my forearm and stroking. "Don't you want to, like, have some fun first? I mean, it's probably been forever since you've had someone like me want something from you." She giggles, and her lips come too close to my neck and I pull back quickly. She glowers, her bottom lip trembling, and her nails dig into my skin.

"You don't have anything I could ever want, Bebe." I snarl.

"I have information about Tweek's killers. That's gotta be worth _something_." She coos, her voice saccharine. I flip her off, and she tosses her head back and laughs. "Oh, please, Craig. I thought you got over that stupid habit. Listen, I'll give you what you want if you give me what I want. You won't be disappointed." She pushes herself up from the bed and smooths out the wrinkles in her skirt. "Why don't I put on something more comfortable and you do the same. And you can meet me down at the hottub in, oh, say ten minutes?" she pulls her hair into a high ponytail and her shirt rises with the motion, revealing sun-kissed skin and her lower back.

She blows a kiss at me and she's out and down the stairs.

This bitch is trying to manipulate me. I begin to tremble out of pure rage, and the next thing I know I've grabbed one of her stupid stuffed animals from her bed and torn off its head, flinging it at the mirror over her vanity. "Stupid, fucking bitch!" I snarl lowly. Three minutes pass while I sit there with my head in my hands contemplating my choice.

Either I cave into her wishes and get the information I need. Or I can jump out the window, with my dignity and wallet still intact, and never look back. Find someone else to give me what I need.

I sigh, "Fucking fuck…" I make my way downstairs.

X

Bebe's parents are fairly well off; sometime in middle school her dad struck it big and they became one of the richest people in South Park next to Token Black's family. Her father built a small outcrop of their house that held a gardening center, a swing, and a hot tub all covered by a glass casing that gave one the perfect view of the outside world but kept the inside nice and warm. Bebe was sitting on the swing, looking at a magazine with little interest.

I shut the door behind me and her head snaps up. She smiles and stands up; she has traded her skirt and halter top for a pink bra and panty set, but she left her heels on, and they keep a staccato beat as she strides over to me elegantly. "You came! Goody!" she squeals, wrapping her arms around my neck and pressing her body taut against mine. "You planning on getting into the hot tub with your clothes on?" she teases and kicks off her shoes before starting the jets and stepping down into the water. The smell of chlorine soon reaches my nose and I wrinkle it in mild disgust before unbuttoning my shirt, kicking off my shoes, and following her lead.

"See? Isn't this nice?" she comments as I sit down, jeans and all, into water. It does feel fairly nice considering the temperature outside. I sink down and let the bubbles from the jet loosen every knot beneath my skin. I hardly notice Bebe moving closer to me until her hand finds my thigh and I jump up. "Calm down, silly." she orders, and pulls my face to meet her.

Gross. Gross. Gross, gross, gross. I keep my lips shut tightly, not letting her nasty ass tongue near my mouth whatsoever. She pulls back, the look in her face shows obvious disappointment but she isn't deterred. "Tell me what you know, Bebe." I ask, my voice not coming out nearly as strong as I hoped it would be.

"Well, I know that he begged for his life. He begged for you; at least that's what they tell me."

"Who is 'they'?"

"Hmmm. The people who were in on it."

"And who would that be?"

"Like I could tell you." She chuckles, splashing water onto me playfully. I feel the calm before the storm brew and quake inside of me.

"Were you in on it?" I ask as I turn my face toward her and stare her down. She stares back, her gaze as strong as mine. Blue eyes waver, then a small sad laugh bubbles out of her throat.

"Of course."

She says it so easily. As if she didn't just admit to helping take a life; an innocent life. A life that someone would miss. I stay silent, not trusting myself with words at the moment. In fact I don't trust myself with anything.

It's Bebe who breaks the silence first, "You're wondering why I helped. What my part is, maybe. I'll tell you Craig, you deserve to know. Maybe then you'll grow up and move past Tweek Tweak." She licks her lips and pushes her bangs out of her face before grabbing my face with her hand and looking directly at me.

"I watched you waste your time and effort on him for years. I watched you reject dates, and girls, and drugs, and parties because of him. I saw you throw away your high school fun on someone who didn't deserve you. He was a parasite on your life, Craig Tucker. He sucked you dry of everything that made you…you! And you had so much potential. You were smart, funny. You're handsome, and strong. Yet you were wasting it all on some tweaked out loser who would be better off in the crazy house.

"Kenny filched the fake note that sent you to the principal's office that afternoon. He had a proclivity for thieving, and he could hardly say no to some drama. We watched Tweek wait for you, scared out of his mind and shrieking every time a piece of paper ruffled. He eventually decided to get some air, so clear his head a little bit. That's where I came in. He was standing by the curb and I came up and told him you were waiting for him just around the corner. And, he had no reason not to believe me. After all, who would suspect me of being a liar?" She laughed, like this was some joke. I just sat there with nothing to say. Sure, thoughts were running amuck in my head, but my body was simply frozen.

She continued, "So, I led him to the dumpster and that's when the real fun began-" I have had enough. Before I realize what I am doing I have grabbed Bebe by the throat and I'm pushing her under the water's surface. Her eyes are wide in shock, and her clawed hands swat at me aimlessly, trying to get me off to no avail. I'm much stronger than her. And I'm angrier.

After about a minute of her struggling I bring her back up. "You are a fucking bitch." I snarl, all the venom in my veins flowing out into words. She coughs, sputters, and gasps for air. Her face is tinged pink from the heat of the water. "You don't deserve to live after what you did to him! You fucking bitch!" I scream and throw her back under. As her head falls beneath the water's surface she gasps, letting out all the air she should have kept in. Water fills her mouth and bubbles erupt from her screams. She struggles even harder, thrashes like a wild animal. I clench my hands tighter around her throat. "You gluttonous, fucking, stupid bitch," I growl out as her hands stop fighting, and as her body wretches one last time before it goes limp.

I push her to the bottom of the hot tub to make sure and then let go. I inch back to the edge of the tub, and watch her body float in the water. Her hair spurts around her, and her eyes are still open in shock. I can't help it, I lean over the hot tub and throw up. I vomit until there is nothing left in me, and then I pull myself out of the water and scramble for my clothes. In the pocket of my hoodie I find the Gluttony orb, shiny and yellow. It throbs in my palm and I have to hold onto it tightly to keep it from leaving my palm. Bebe's soul ascends from the water, looking altogether sad and angry. Her hair wraps around her as if she were still suspended in water; I watch as it floats up to me, mouths 'why' and then opens its mouth in a silent scream as it is sucked into the orb.

"Another job well done, Craig." comes the silky voice of Satan. I whirl and nearly drop the orb. He is sitting on the swing, his legs crossed and a wide, malicious grin on his face. His eyes sparkle as they reach the orb. He outstretches his claw and I slowly walk forward to place it there. He curls his long claws over it and laughs lowly. "This is quite amusing. Drowning, oh what fun." He coos, before stretching his jaw open like a snakes and swallowing the Gluttony orb. I see the bulge of it work its way down his throat, and find myself wanting to vomit again.

He stands up and towers over me as my knees wobble and I collapse. The devil circles me, humming lightly and eyeing me expectantly. "Aren't you going to run, Craig? Her parents will be home soon, and if you want me to clean up all traces of you being here I'll need you gone." He says, moving over to look at the still body of Bebe Stevens in her watery grave.

I nod, still slightly sick and dazed. My hands did that. My hands killed her… I wretch but hold back the bile. Satan picks me up by my ear, as though I am a bad student and pushes me towards the door. "You better get home. There's someone waiting for you." And with that he cackles loudly and disappears in flames.

TBC.


End file.
